The City of the Hand (
cityofthehand) wrote2012-06-23 05:58 pm
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Chapter Twenty-Six
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Chapter Twenty-Six
When Lord Shadow emerged from his personal rooms in his most formal attire, the gravity of their situation fully weighed on Maira. Her mind had dismissed the Palace of Supreme Unity as nothing more than a meeting house they could walk into. Now she felt the magnitude of the thing they meant to do - walk onto a place where even Shadow could be harmed and take a Councilor, perhaps more than one.
They spoke for their race to the other races, they set down laws, they controlled the Wards that kept every soul in the city alive. They were going to do a thing that an entire army might not be able to accomplish. A thing that might have an entire army coming after them. And the Lord of the Asna’isi himself was going to step off of safe territory with her to do it.
She shivered even under the many heavy layers of silk of her own costume, and it did feel like a costume rather than her own clothing. Though she’d been assured she looked the part, she felt nothing so much as awkward and inadequate. She had never been in the palace before, not even to deliver a letter. That was how far above her, above everything she knew, it was. She laughed to herself at the naivety of thinking she could simply dress up as a courier again and go in.
Nervous to the point of being desperate to talk about anything, she asked Shadow himself, “Do I look appropriate?” coming closer. Behind him and to the side, Graymere was also looking her up and down. His eyes gave away a glimmer of approval.
“Yes.” Lord Shadow gave his own, scarcely detectable version of a smile, with his eyes crinkling up in a way that made Maira think that he might not be as completely immune to aging as she thought he was. “I need you to understand the protocol we must follow once we leave these apartments. Because you are in the dominion of my sign, you may walk beside me, but you must never go ahead of me without my express order. If I should order you behind me, stand to the side, not directly behind my wings. Do not allow anyone to address you personally without permission, that is beneath you now and it disrespects us both. They must say ‘lady’ or ‘graceful one’. You do not bow lower than anyone but myself, and others must bow first to you, at the waist, not the head.”
She scrunched her nose in confusion. “Wait, does that include Graymere?” she shook her head, realizing she’d taken liberties too. “I mean, Prime Graymere.”
“Yes, including him.”
I’m above the Prime Agent, she thought, dizzied by the implications. “Of course, I can do all of that.”
“We cannot seem to be in a hurry, we must proceed at an even pace. You must not express your emotions openly, even when you are in pain.”
She caged an angry remark in her mouth. What he meant was, don’t act so human, act Asna’isi. “I’ll try my best.”
“You misunderstand,” he said, voice utterly uninflected. Obviously she’d done a poor job just then if he’d practically read her mind. “Emotions are not a weakness among us. Only those who do not understand us assume this. All things feel, it is neither virtue nor vice. However, no one can fully understand the emotions of others. Therefore, to outwardly express them is to burden others with information they can neither change nor fully comprehend. It confuses, distracts, and upsets. Thus, we do not make issue of our feelings in public, we conceal them until we are among intimate companions. This way, we may interact upon things that are shared rather than what is always singular.”
“Now I understand,” she said and tried to make her voice match his in coolness and neutrality. It was radically different from the Taye philosophy, that practically demanded emotions be put out into the open. To be cold was to indicate someone was so beneath you they weren’t worth of feeling anything for.
She bowed because she knew it was no small thing to have the Lord of the Asna’isi explain his entire race to her and he inclined his head. No more was said and they left the apartment, making their way to the landing platform. Naran, Yena, and Kei-zi were already waiting for them along with eight other Asna’isi, all wearing fine clothes similar to Shadow’s but not the same.
Naran regarded her the way Graymere had, but with far less subtlety in the way he smiled. The open display of his affection and approval did not warm her. It felt like being tempted back to her usual ways when she was trying valiantly to aspire to be as graceful as the ones she accompanied, as graceful as one worthy of this task.
“I’m impressed,” he said when she got close. “You look the part. You’ve even got your own kind of wings.” He pointed at her back to the long silks — the same color as Shadow’s wings — that came through the slits in the jacket where real wings ought to have gone.
“Too bad they’re not real,” she muttered. “You’re ready?”
“I am, are you?” he asked.
“I won’t let us down, don’t worry,” she replied.
The frown he gave let her know that he would be worrying no matter what she said. With a shrug, she turned around and walked to where Graymere stood. “Let’s get this over with,” she said, and began to turn so he could harness her.
He caught her arm as quick as a striking snake and tugged her hard enough to startle. “No. Do not act as if you meant to be harnessed to me. This insults Lord Shadow and in front of his most important lieutenants. These agents here are his prize soldiers. Tonight you fly with our lord, and in his presence I am unfit to carry you. To come to me first is like saying you regard me above him. Pretend to whisper something into my ear, make it seem as though you only came to tell me something,” he said and Maira did as he asked.
Leaning in she said, “I didn’t mean to disrespect him. I’m just used to flying with you. I thought -”
“I know,” he said and she heard the amusement in his voice though she was too close to his ear and his throat to see if he smiled. “Now go.”
He gave her a gentle push away and let go of her arm. She nodded at him and moved to Lord Shadow’s side. “I just wanted to make sure Graymere and Naran don’t start anything with each other,” she lied, hoping he hadn’t caught her near insult just a few feet away. “I wish I knew what those two did to piss each other off.”
“You may find that becomes apparent very soon,” he replied. “Are you prepared?”
“Is there any other protocol I should know about it, so I don’t embarrass you?”
“No. Stay beside me at all times, show no pain, leave the rest to me.”
“Then I’m ready,” she replied. He stepped up to her to harness her as she looked over the tract that Shadow ruled over. Beneath their feet were so many who owed him loyalty and obedience. Any of them could have been chosen, most probably deserved the honor more than her. He could have marked them, but something about her rated above the thousands down below, invisibly small in the darkness.
“If you wish to refuse this task, I will think no less of you,” he said, in the privacy of that dark cocoon.
“This isn’t even the most dangerous thing I’ve done this week. The sooner we do it, the sooner it’s over.”
“Wisely said,” he agreed and opened his wings in an instant, unfurling them with a hard snap of air. The night wind blew into her face. She shut her eyes, bracing against the harness to put her weight into the initial dive. Lord Shadow fell into the wind and off the platform to beat his wings into the wind. The first stomach twisting swoop took Maira’s breath away, but she let it happen without fighting or tensing up. She hooked her feet over his legs and straightened herself to reduce resistance to the bitter night wind, and did not grab the harness like she did with Graymere. She put her arms back, hands pressed to her thighs. Their shared form flew smoother and saved Shadow the extra work
She took the time, as they flew, to close her eyes and ready herself mentally. She breathed the cold air in steady intervals, assuring and reassuring herself each moment that she had sufficient strength to do this.
They landed a block and a half away from the Palace gates. The grounds lay quiet, most everything that wasn’t a teahouse or bar had closed after the dinner hour. Maira longed hard for her old life. This night would have been a treasure to her.
Once everyone landed and unharnessed, everyone focused on Naran. He snapped his fingers and sorcerer’s light glowed above his head like a floating lamp. He knelt down on a grass area by the walk away and brought out materials from his brown leather satchel: two bowls, paper envelopes of sand, dried herbs. He mixed them with a heavy stone pesil and then lit them with green flame that evaporated instantly.
“Maira, come here. Put your hands in until I say stop,” he instructed.
Maira didn’t give herself time to balk. She went to him, sat on her heels, and plunged her hands into the bowls. She tilted her head, shocked that she felt nothing. Had he exaggerated the pain?
Then the sand grew burning hot. She hissed between her teeth and he reached forward, grabbing her wrists and pressing down with his weight. The light over his head shadowed his eyes, all she could see were dark recesses, like the eyeholes of a skull. The pain zipped up her arms, shoulders, neck, then back down her spine. She tossed her head, forcing herself to count streets and paths just to get through each excruciating second.
Time moved at a crawl. Maira shut her eyes, ashamed that she was letting so much weakness show in front of Shadow’s lieutenants, who probably could their get fingers chopped off without so much as an “ouch”.
“It’s almost done, just hang on,” Naran whispered. His forehead bumped gently against hers. “You’re doing well. Breathe slow, that’ll help.” Maira pushed down an angry retort born of pain wanting to lash out and see its twin in someone else’s eyes.
When he let go, she pulled back so fast she tipped back. Graymere caught her easily and pulled her too her feet. She looked down at her shaking hands, fingers splayed because even touching each other hurt too much. Lord Shadow’s marks glowed blue as if light from inside her body escaped through the etched lines.
Shaking and sick to her stomach, she held them out. “Is - is this supposed to happen?”
“The magic is reacting to the mark. It won’t stop the spell. Go. Now,” Naran said, gathering his things.
Maira needed no more telling. She made a move to start walking towards the palace gates, but was held back with a tug to her arm. Graymere glanced at her, then to Lord Shadow. She remembered the protocol, and stayed in place though she was already in a cold, sick sweat, nauseated by pain. Lord Shadow walked ahead and she caught up with a controlled paced to take her place by his side.
Her mind strained to remember to keep her face and her demeanor blank at the same time as she checked Shadow constantly to make sure she didn’t get ahead or behind. The pain gripped her mind in a miserable fog. She ignored the lavish entrance to the palace, seeing no more than quick passing blurs of red, marble, gold, and bright blue as they passed. She could not stop to note the wonders on each floor they ascended.
Each ounce of her strength pressed against the urge to scream, vomit, and collapse. The only momentary break in pain came when they passed the Pahali quarters on the second floor with nothing changed. The powerful relief of knowing Yena, the ambassador, and their people remained innocent and safe blotted out her agony for a split second.
Then they came to the third floor and the long empty corridor between one set of stairs and another. She passed four or five doors that looked all the same and then, in the time it took to make one step, the pain went from agony to white hot hell so powerful it didn’t stop at her hand. The stabbing-burning-twist surged through each bone in her body and through the center of her - gut, heart, lungs, womb - like a four pronged blade of thorns.
She failed to keep the pain from her face. Lord Shadow must have seen the pain cross her face, because he caught her as her knees buckled and covered her mouth. He pulled back to the wall. Instantly, Graymere and the lieutenants did the same. The soft carpet of the corridor muffled the sound of a dozen bodies moving so quickly.
“You sensed it?” Lord Shadow whispered.
She tipped her head back, tears streaming down her face and then his knuckles and nodded.
“This door?” He indicating the closed double doors with the Tsaqa seal and others she didn’t recognize. She nodded again. His grip tightened, forcing her to breath through her nose when her body convulsed with a silent, desperate sob. “I know, I know,” he whispered, even lower, voice suffused with emotion. “You must be silent, you must identify the exact person. We have only one chance. I know you hurt, but we cannot fail now. I will take this pain, I will give you everything. Be strong for me now, precious one,” he begged.
The lord is begging, the lord is begging, her mind whirled. She looked to the ceiling as if to ask some god above why she had been chosen for this agony. Pain rippled through her like water bouncing off the side of a bowl and back in on itself. Who would you want to suffer for you? Came the errant thought.
No one, she answered and opened her eyes. She nodded so Shadow would remove his hand and turn her loose. She shivered, teeth chattering. Pain made her clumsy as if drunk and unable to think. She trembled at Shadow’s side when she followed him through the doors his agents held open for him.
He strode in as if he owned the room inside, a room empty save the desks covered with papers, books, and ink. The door closed, Shadow looked to Graymere and Graymere’s gesture had to two of the lieutenants out of formation and in position in the center of the room while they walked. Maira staggered beside him, blinking against the dark patches floating over her vision. Two more lieutenants opened the door at the end of the front office for Shadow and he went ahead of Maira by three or four steps. She scolded herself for getting behind but couldn’t catch up.
Inside that office, they found a pale, slender, delicate looking Tsaqa smoking a paper-rolled herb that smelled ashy and bittersweet. This one wore loose, silk robes of sea green, deep blue, and white with silver rings and bracelets. They did not even raise their head at the intrusion, but said smothing in Tsaqa in a high, clipped voice and gestured with the hand holding the smoking herbs.
The sight of the Tsaqa brought pain so suddenly Maira screamed, helpless to remain silent. “They’re the one! They’re the one!”
Graymere, not Shadow, took her in his arms so that she went slowly to the ground, holding her like he did in the harness. She turned her hands over. The marks glowed and pulsed now.
The Tsaqa finally looked up and got to their feet immediately.
“Madam Councilor Vharoi, my greetings,” Lord Shadow said. Menace saturated his words. “Break the spell, Mr. Al-Shahd, we have what we need.”
“What are you doing?” Vharoi demanded, speaking accented Domainish, then looked at Maira with a laugh. “Are you trying to play some kind of a joke? What is this thing that’s getting my carpet dirty?”
Naran shoved past one of the Asna’isi and put a talisman around Maira’s neck. The pain backed off and she hung her head, breathing long and deep. “This the Councilor who killed them,” she said, in a much calmer voice as she licked a tear from the corner of her mouth. Naran reached into his kit and pulled out a small cloth bag. He sprinkled the contents of it on her hands.
“Rub your hands together,” he instructed, quietly. Maira did and a cooling sensation, like putting her hands into blessedly cold water, washed over her hands. She rose, using Graymere’s arm and Naran’s shoulder to leverage herself. The talisman created a smooth, painless haze and courage came easy. She stepped forward. “You had Professor Decaran killed, you attacked the Wards in the Tayeland. We’re going to stop you now.”
Vharoi tilted her head like a confused dog. Her iridescent, translucent wings fluttered. “A noisy thing, aren’t you?” She turned her curious gaze on Shadow. “It isn’t worthy of you. It speaks stupidly. It think it knows things.”
“I’m not an it. I’m a ‘she’.”
“Hardly. You’re just an object, unsettled by larger forces. You think I can’t see that? You’re powerless and you know nothing, get out.”
“No. Tell me where you’re going to take down the wards. Now,” she demanded, leveling her gaze at Vharoi. It was only the effect of the amulet that made her think it was wise to provoke someone this powerful. Vharoi did not look it, being shorter and so fish-belly pale she wasn’t far from a demon, but the Tsaqa had hidden strengths. Those fluttering delicate wings were more substantial than most thought.
“It keeps yapping. Lord Shadow, quiet your dog, would you?” Vharoi asked and turned her back, going for her desk casually, like no one else was even in the room.
Maira closed the gap, fearless, determined to show her rage. Vharoi had caused all the death and pain, and Maira saw no reason not to avenge it. “Motswa knows, she told me the truth. Call me an ‘it’, but I’m the ‘it’ who’s going to stop you. You killed Taye, now a Taye woman is going to pay you back.”
Vharoi held still a moment, then laughed as she whipped around, brandishing a sharp knife that came from nowhere. Maira, slowed by the talisman, could do more than gasp at the glint of steel coming at her and throw her hands up in defense.
Then, as the blade came within inches of her, Lord Shadow moved like a strike of lightning, a blaze of black wings, brown skin and blue silks. He grabbed Vharoi’s knife in one hand, and her throat in the other. He lifted the Councilor high and then slammed her down on her own desk so hard she dropped the knife. Maira winced as papers scattered and she saw the Councilor’s wing fluttering, bent back the wrong way under her body.
Graymere grabbed Maira around the waist like he might fly off with her right there and half enfolded her with owlish wings. She gripped his arms for comfort, not to pull them away, still gasping at how close to death she’d come — and how quick Shadow’s strike had truly been.
“You will respect my mark, councilor,” he said, so darkly and calmly Maira shuddered. He did not take his eyes off her as she writhed in his strangling gasp, but he spoke to Graymere now. “Prime, please take my graceful one where she might recover from the spell. Mr. al-Shahd, if you would like to explain to the councilor that the professor was your friend, I believe she is available to hear you now.”
Naran cast a guilty glance at Maira, as if he wanted to stay by her side, but stepped forward. “Certainly.”
Graymere still held her tightly as he turned his body and pushed her out of the office. The doors closed behind them in an instant.
“What happens when the Tsaqa find out what we’re doing here? Where are her guards?” Maira asked, looking over her shoulder as he urged her forward, unable to see past his spread wings.
“Councilors are not allowed armed people within the Palace itself. As for the other councilors, it is likely they will not be aware one of their own has been taken for a while. By then we will have legal writs and proof enough.”
Graymere pulled at her arm to stop her running into the half open front door. She halted and stared at it, then looked to him, grateful for his neutral expression. He kept close to her as they went back the way they’d come. She noted he never stepped in front of her, and she realized she was gaping at everything with a silly grin, admiring shiny brass fixtures, wall sized paintings, giant statues, and Graymere’s sharp, beautiful face.
“Where are we going?”
“Councilor Stardown is quite close to Lord Shadow, you may rest in zir chambers.”
“I’m all right now. We can go back,” she said and looked so far over her shoulder she nearly tripped herself.
“You are still trembling.”
Maira raised a hand and held it level as best she could. He was right. She let her arm down and continued on with him to an office the same size and shape of Vharoi’s, but furnished differently. This one showcased pure Asna’isi sensibility in it’s elegant, neatly organized appointment. It also held many people. Asna’isi clerks sat at desk, scratching pens against paper, passing messages to one another, talking in low voices.
One of the clerks spoke to a prefect with bright, emerald green wings who raised their head and looked at Maira with a sudden expression of sheer, uncontrolled fear. She narrowed her eyes. Prefect Hazewind, the one who watched and smiled as the Dhatan hurt her, the one who threatened to do worse with a smile on that pale face.
“Graceful one,” Hazewind stammered and bowed.
“I don’t bow to this one,” she said, not asked. Shadow himself couldn’t make her.
“No, you do not,” Graymere said and left her side to tell the clerk by the office do something. That left her alone with Hazewind and the staring clerks, who couldn’t quite keep their curiosity and shock to themselves even as they worked on. Maira stepped forward, feeling vicious and sneaky as a crocodile. A mean, mean smile came over her face.
“Prefect Hazewind, do you remember me?”
“Yes, graceful one.”
“I am stupid now?” she snapped at him, so loud everything in the office stopped, falling to perfect silence. “Is your blade cleaned now, prefect?”
Hazewind bowed deeply. “I beg forgiveness, graceful one.”
Graymere came to them, openly confused and protective, spreading his wings to assert his space. “Prefect, what is this?” he demanded.
“That is for the graceful one to explain, Prime,” Hazewind answered, quietly, bowing once more. “I only beg forgiveness for my errors. I am willing to -”
“Be quiet!” she snapped, deliberately sneering to insult the prefect. “I’ll try to explain this in terms you can understand. Just because you think someone is just dirt beneath your feet doesn’t mean they are. So you should always be careful how you treat other people. Even couriers and humans.”
“Yes, of course. Wise advice, graceful one.”
“Go away,” she said, with a wave of her hand, treating Hazewind as less than a servant. Hazewind bowed and she turned her back.
Moments later, Ambassador Stardown zirself came out. Zie was tall, solidly built and beautiful with darker skin than Graymere and pale blue hair and sharp Asna’isi cheekbones that gave zir a regal, austere look. Zir wings were bright orange and black, zir hands smuged with ink. Zie spared a smile for Maira, but immediately went back to blankness. Knowing now what she did, Maira knew this was an extension of friendship. Zie was indicating zie considered Maira a friend now, someone zie could show emotion to.
Stardown showed them into zir office and then another room that seemed meant just for sitting and having tea. There was a time she would have considered it frivolous to so carefully furnish a room just for tea and talking. Now she understood how many things were done, how many lives were saved or sacrificed by talking over tea, by people like this.
The deaths of thousands had been planned when the conspiracy to weaken and lower the wards began. Perhaps the decision to let Taye people die started in a room like this. Stupidly, Maira wondered what kind of tea Vharoi drank when she ordered such a terrible thing to be done.
After a brief exchange and a mutual bow, Stardown left Graymere and Maira alone in the room. With a sigh, Maira let herself down on a cushion and slumped over, laying her head on her arm on the table.
Graymere took a seat at the table itself, wings spread on the fine carpet and faced her. “You’ve done very well. Your courage has been…extraordinary.”
She snorted and smiled at him. “I looked ridiculous walking around with you and Lord Shadow. Bet I made a lot of weird faces.”
“You would not wish to take that bet with me. You held yourself with grace and dignity, as much as any, even Lord Shadow. Thus, I would win,” he said and he sounded so terribly serious, but his face made a lie of his tone and she laughed behind her arm. Then his tone and face matched. “You saved many lives today.”
Maira let out a long sigh. “So this is it. It’s over now.”
“Why do you sound disbelieving?”
She shut her eyes. “I didn’t think I’d live this long.” The talisman did nothing to push back the flood of feelings, sorrow and weariness chief among them.
“I never doubted it,” he said. “If I may ask, why did you act that way to Prefect Hazewind? Did ey offend you?”
She took another breath, the anger made her steady. “Ey was there that night, when the professor died. Ey and eir partner watched the Dhatan beat me. Then ey held a knife to me and threatened to paralyze me if I didn’t tell em everything.”
Graymere nodded and said, “Ah” with a weak veneer of neutrality. He almost certainly had unpleasant plans for Hazewind and eir partner. Is this why you fled from me that day? Did you think that I would do as ey had done?”
“Yeah.”
“You know now I would do nothing to harm you,” he said and it was mostly a question.
“Of course. You could’ve killed me already if you’d wanted.”
“But you understand that I would never harm you, even if I were angry, even if there were no mark?”
“Sure,” she said and stretched her legs out to get more comfortable. She found herself staring at his beautiful owlish wings, smiling for no other reason than that they were elegant and wonderful to behold. The words ‘let’s go flying’ were stuck in her throat, wanting badly to emerge.
“Have I done something to amuse you?” he asked, tilting his head at her. He must have realized what it was, because he extended a wing and said, “You may touch, if you like.”
Maira rose in one fluid movement and went around the table. She sat next to him, reaching out until she brushed fingertips against smooth, stiff flight feathers. They felt cool and sheened up close, fragrant with a faint, pleasant smell from the soap or oil he cleaned them with. Sandalwood, perhaps. She drew closer, drifting to the softer feathers closer to his body.
“What does your name mean?” she asked him, stroking the downy softness just by his shoulder.
“I w-what?” he stammered.
“Your name, what does it mean?” she repeated, grinning. She breathed in, pulling closer to that warm body, now so familiar and comforting.
“There was nothing remarkable about the day I was born. It was merely overcast. Gray,” he whispered, leaning close to her ear. “That is all.”
“It seems like you would have been born on a very important day. Then again, a day is only important if we do something with it. Otherwise, it’s just the sun rising and setting, isn’t it?”
“Wisely said.”
Maira traced the top of the wing, near the bone, with her palm, thinking of the grace of his wings while numbers and figures floated through her head like gorgeous music only she could hear. She leaned, rubbed her cheek against the smallest, softest part. Graymere’s breath hitched loudly. She recoiled.
“Oh, did I hurt you?” she asked, alarmed by the half-lidded, gaping look on his face, as if he were sleepy or stunned.
“You did not hurt me. Our wings are sensitive, especially those parts. You may continue. If you wish.”
“Is it rude to touch?”
“No,” he answered, placing a single hand softly on her arm. “But it is…intimate.”
Maira reached out again before thinking twice. The talisman turned off all hesitation. After such pain, the call of pleasure and soft touching could not be resisted. Graymere was safe, known, trusted. She’d flown with him, she knew now the rhythm of his take offs and landings, knew weight of him in the air, knew the pattern of his wings and feathers. Touching him made her entire being hum happily.
“I wish I had wings. Yours are so beautiful.” she said, tilting her head. She made a sad sound though she did not feel sad. “Did you mean it when you said that you would fly with me anytime I wished?”
“Graceful one -” he began and stopped as the door behind them opened quickly. They both turned and Graymere’s other wing extended, half-closing around her. Naran entered, looking angry, but she smiled at him.
Naran stared at them, angrily, but she smiled at him. “Am I interrupting anything?” he asked, in a flat, hard voice.
Maira got to her feet and stepped beyond Graymere’s wings. “No, I was just looking at his wings. Aren’t they beautiful?”
“Were you now?” he asked, looking around her to glare at Graymere. “Certainly picked an interesting time for it. Guess it makes it easier for you to get what you really want.”
Graymere rose and moved fast, facing Naran from his superior height. “That is an unwise accusation to make, Mr. al-Shahd.” He said Naran’s family name like a curse.
“You didn’t say it was false,” Naran replied, sharply. “But then exploiting opportunity is your talent, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps, but I have never been known to desert my friends and leave my burdens for others to bear at the first sign of danger,” Graymere replied, coldly.
Even with her mind fogged, she heard the cruelty clearly. Naran’s face screwed up in anger, a blow imminent. She moved as fast as her clumsy legs would let her to grab him before they could start a fight. He couldn’t take Graymere without both of them being badly injured.
She wasn’t quick enough. Naran struck forward and up, fist aiming for Graymere’s face. He missed when the Prime sidestepped smoothly and put his wings at full extension. The next strike came from Graymere, and Naran blocked with the side of his arm. They turned their bodies, starting to circle.
“Stop it!” Maira screamed and reached out for Graymere when his arm reared back.
They moved again, so quick they were blurs to her but she grasped. Then something slammed the side of her head, hard and she toppled over, striking the tea table as she went down. She laid still, waiting for pain to tell her if she’d injured herself.
“Maira!” Naran cried. Hands reached down and helped her up, but she pushed them away, grabbing at her head. The talisman took away most of the pain but not all.
“Are you all right?” asked Graymere. “Are you injured?”
Maira staggered with a wave of vertigo and nausea. “Gods below take you both!” she shouted. “What the fuck is wrong with you two? Why are you fighting like this?” Neither of them answered. She straightened, giving hateful looks to both. “Fine, don’t tell me. Just work it out when I’m not around. What did you even come in here for, Naran?”
“Lord Shadow sent me. We need the device,” Naran explained, not meeting her eyes.
“Does he know where the wards are going down?” she asked and looked down at the talisman. Frustrated she pulled it off and the dull throb became a much sharper pain. She bent double against it, pressing her palm to the bump in her skull.
“Not yet. Vharoi won’t talk, but he thinks if we had the device, she would,” he replied. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said, far too pointedly, angry at them and at the pain - her hands ached like she’d been squeezing something too tightly for hours, but she couldn’t afford to be in a daze now. “Is he still in the ambassador’s office?”
Naran nodded. “Maira, I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
She huffed. “Don’t be sorry, start acting like you have some sense. Both of you! We’ve got bigger problems here and you’re fighting with each other. Over what? Over nothing!”
Not waiting to hear what they’d say, she pushed past them and marched out of the office.